


When I Close My Eyes, It's You I See

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Ghost Gus, M/M, The Compound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:23:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7879927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse has an unexpected visitor to the grate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Close My Eyes, It's You I See

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skazka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skazka/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this.
> 
> A/N: Title is from "Everywhere" by Michelle Branch. 
> 
> Also, thank you to my beta Chaosprincess :)

Jesse let his eyes slip shut. He counted down from a hundred; that helped a little, surprisingly. He needed to keep calm, because if his heart kept racing, he was sure that he would pass out, and if he passed out, he might die.

He wasn’t ready to die yet, though explaining that to himself might be more difficult yet – why was he hanging on, just for another day in this grate, in this underground hole where he was forced to work day in day out and then sleep on a grimy, weather-beaten mattress. 

Or maybe that was the point.

He would have to be up and ready soon; his brain woke up like clockwork now, knew the exact time that they would come for him and his brain would get him up early enough to allow him a little time of peace.

Or a little time to remember. 

He tried to look for beauty, even in a place as dismal as all this. He missed the boring joys of the years before he had met Mr. White, when he hadn’t ever been a millionaire but he had been able to sit on a comfortable chair, listen to music, or ride on a skateboard. 

He opened his eyes again, only to realize there was something in them. These days, it seemed as if there was always something in them. He pictured it as dirt or blood, something he could rub against but could never truly rid himself of. Not anymore.

He made a fist and rubbed at his eye, regardless. Maybe it was a force of habit, he wasn’t sure. 

To his surprise, as his eyes focused again, he saw a figure forming in the dark of the grate. A mirage, maybe, or maybe he was really losing it at last.

He bit his lip, hard. 

“Please,” he whispered, and he wasn’t entirely sure where that had come from. He had learned a long time ago not to say “please” to the men upstairs; it never made any difference, and a lot of times it only made it worse.

The man in the shadows stepped into the light, and Jesse felt a scream struggling its way up his throat. He had really lost it, truly went over the rainbow entirely.  
Gus Fring was staring right at him with narrowed, judging eyes. At least, that’s what Jesse thought was happening. There were little pinpricks of light shining from the shadows.

“Please,” Jesse managed again. “Oh my God.”

“Jesse.” The word seemed to echo through the walls, and Jesse took a breath. Nothing seemed to echo in this place – it seemed as if even they died here. 

Nothing could live here. Not even a ghost – they would find a way to take this away. But did Jesse want them to? Was he more afraid of Gus being there, or of losing him?

Maybe it all depended on what he would say. Maybe he wouldn’t speak at all – Gus was so often silent, chillingly so. 

Jesse had read that the bomb had blown half of Gus’ face clean off. Maybe that was why he wouldn’t step out of the dark, why Jesse didn’t want him to.

Besides that, there was the fact that if he stepped out of the dark, Jesse would know that he had finally lost his mind for good. 

And he wasn’t sure if he was ready to deal with that just yet. Maybe there would be a relief in it, because then he wouldn’t have to think about this anymore. He could be like someone in one of those old movies his mother used to watch. When they’d lose their minds they would just rock back and laugh, laugh, laugh.

“Jesse,” Gus said again, and Jesse scrambled back a bit, as far as his chains would take him. It wasn’t far. “I won’t hurt you.”

Gus gave a chuckle, and Jesse shivered. It started at his toes and crept up into his chin.

“You won’t hurt me?” Jesse wasn’t sure if he could believe him, but maybe he had to. There was no one else left in this world he could trust; maybe he needed to grope into the next to have any hope.

“I won’t.”

It was the truth, Jesse knew suddenly, though whether it was because Gus could not or would not, he wasn’t sure. 

In the end, Jesse was the one who stepped into the light. He wasn’t sure if it would reveal that Gus had gone or that he was still there. He wasn’t sure which one of those outcomes would be worse; maybe both of them were.

Maybe everything was equally tragic and horrible in the life of Jesse Pinkman.

Gus’ face floated in front of Jesse’s.

He had both of his eyes. 

“Gus,” Jesse managed, now, and it felt like time were moving very slowly. Maybe that’s the way it was when you were in a place like this.

Jesse jolted as he felt Gus’ hand slip on to his shoulder and squeeze.

“Gus!” he said again, more frantic. Whoever heard of a ghost that could reach out and touch someone? Was he a… a poltergeist, maybe?

“I’m here for you, Jesse.”

“…Ah… uh, here for me?” Jesse stammered out, “As in, like, ‘I feel your pain’, or, uh, like, ‘I’m coming to drag you to Hell?’ Not that you’re in Hell, I mean, I wouldn’t…” He stammered and trailed off. 

Gus chuckled.

“Jesse, Jesse. I had missed you so.”

“Heh… You did?” 

“Of course.” Gus’ fingers moved from Jesse’s shoulder to cup his chin and pull him in close. He was staring into Gus’ eyes, and there was something of space in them, or maybe a cloud.

Jesse never thought that thinking of a cloud could be terrifying until this moment, but there it was.

A smoke cloud, maybe. One that someone could disappear into and never return. Sucked into a vortex like a plane caught in the Bermuda triangle. Being and then not-being, all in a matter of seconds. 

“Why are you here? Gus… I… don’t really want to be the one to tell you, but you’re… dead.” What was that? It seemed as if a sliver of the old Jesse had appeared. What was he doing here? Better stuff him back down inside before anyone might see and stomp him out all over again…

“I heard you ran into an unfortunate situation.”

Jesse nearly burst out laughing. Here he was, talking to his hallucination, or a ghost, maybe, and yet Gus was just so spot on. Maybe he should have been a writer. 

“You could say that,” Jesse mumbled instead. 

Suddenly he could feel Gus’ fingers, again, on his thigh this time. Now it had gone too far, now it had gotten far too weird – he could not have sex with a ghost.

But was that even true? Was there anything left in the world that Jesse Pinkman would not do, a line he could not bring himself to cross? Over these past two years, he had brought ruin to anyone who got close to him, friend or foe.

Or lover. He hurt them the worst of all. 

“What do you plan to do to get yourself out of it?”

Gus seemed very calm about it all – then again, of course he would be. Whether Jesse got out of this or not had no meaning to him. Had it ever?

He remembered how Gus had snatched the poisoned liquor out of his hand. He hadn’t had to do that – he didn’t know that Mike was going to be shot. Had he just been that successful at planning ahead, or had he felt something for Jesse?

What did it matter?

“Nothing. I’ll stay here until I die. I tried to escape.” Jesse couldn’t talk about what had happened next, not even to a man who only lived in his head.

Gus’ fingers touched Jesse’s forehead. He pictured him as one of those preachers he had seen on TV, the ones who would just touch someone and yell “heal!” and suddenly they would get up and walk or not have migraines anymore or whatever had been plaguing them before.

If anyone could do it, Gus could. There was something in him, something to him in a way Jesse had never dreamed of. Gus had been like that; Mike had been like that. Even Mr. White had been, as much as Jesse hated and still feared the man.

Not like Jesse. Not like an insignificant wisp of a thing that would blow away down here. 

Jesse’s mind wasn’t even on it when Gus’ lips moved to meet Jesse’s. He let out a little gasp, half-terrified and half-fascinated. 

He wanted to melt in it. This was scary, that much was true – but it was much less scary than what was waiting for him above. The men who wouldn’t rest until they broke him down to the bone, shattered and laughed at him, wrenched every last sob from him. 

Jesse knew he should pull away, move back to his mattress, close his eyes and just let the next day come and grab him. He knew this couldn’t be real (could it?). But right now, kissing Gustavo Fring, he found that he didn’t care.

Let the madness take him away, if madness was what it was.

He didn’t want to blink.

Tiredness pulled at him in the end, however, dragging him back down to the floor of the grate.

He shut his eyes and curled up again, in his hole. 

When he woke up and tried to brush the sleep from his eyes, Gus was gone. His fingers ached. 

His lips felt softer, somehow. He breathed out and tasted not soot or chemicals but something sweet.

Maybe it had been real. 

He had to believe it.


End file.
